


A Rare Melody

by anotherdirtycomputer



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hallucinations, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, nathan has self-worth issues, this is basically a vent fic hehhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 10:12:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherdirtycomputer/pseuds/anotherdirtycomputer
Summary: Nathan is terrified, sometimes, that Warren will leave. He doesn't need to be.





	A Rare Melody

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this over the summer and editted it a bit and just need to put it here so i'll stop dying akfhskfs ... 
> 
> the hallucination mentioned in the tags is very brief, and an auditory one, and isnt there for "xD dramas!!!!" ...i hc that nathan has schizophrenia or psychosis, which can oftentimes be accompanied by hallucinations (in nathan's case here, auditory!)

Warren's heartbeat, steady and rhythmic against Nathan's ear, is like music. Every calming beat is a reminder that Nathan is not alone and would no longer have to be. Much like with whalesong, Nathan is certain his idea of  _music_ didn't much align with that of other people; personally, he still prefers it over all the shitty club bangers he'd had to hear throughout high school, but  _whatthefuckever._

Maybe it's because heartbeats are a sign of life.  _Whalesong_ is a sign of life. And Nathan -- Nathan is so damned used to feeling alone, like a man drifting through the cold expanse of space. Even when Kris called him and emailed him every day or every night and Victoria held him close any and every time he allowed her to, he'd felt alone... like there was a wall between him and every other person alive that kept them away. Even  _now,_ Nathan waits for Warren to leave, to spit " _psycho_ " in his face, to laugh and push him away and  _sneer_ at the nightmares Mark Jefferson left behind.

" _It's you're fault,_ " Warren would snarl, an ugly grimace marring his usually smiling face. This cruel, hateful creature would replace Nathan's goofy, well-humored lover, leaving him alone, alone, alone,  _alone_.

"You have those nightmares because you are one."

Nathan gasps in horror, sitting up quickly to look at Warren. He swears Warren just spoke, but it looks like Warren hasn't so much as tossed his head since they went to bed.

Nathan's frantic movement, however, jostled him, and he slowly wakes.

"Hm?" Warren's sleepy voice comes through the dim projector lighting. As soon as they'd moved in together, Nathan had added  _projector_ to their list of necessities; way cheaper than a T.V., and more soothing, too. The dark terrifies him. The shifting light of the cartoons on the screen play across Warren's face, chasing away the dark shapes that haunt Nathan's vision. Nathan's heartbeat starts to settle. "Bad dream, baby?"

Nathan almost can't believe that pet name ever bothered him. He relaxes instantly upon hearing it.

"No," he admits. "I just... thought I heard something."

Warren hums in understanding, stroking his hand down Nathan's arm in a tender, ernest gesture of comfort. He must think Nathan saw Mark again, as he sometimes does in night-terrors and waking dreams. Nathan doesn't think about Mark anymore that much, though, not when Warren's with him. The other boy's hair is a mussed mess around his head, his sweet brown eyes barely open and his round face soft with sleep. To Nathan, Warren Graham looks like an angel, the light of the projector nothing less than a halo.

Nathan almost laughs. It bubbles up in his chest, fond and warm, and stays there.

"Don't worry, baby," says Warren, mumbling. "I'm here. I won't let anything get you."

Nathan leans down for a closed-mouth kiss, Warren's soft mouth smiling and lazy with sleep against his. He presses his nose against Warren's cheek, laying back down over him. Though he's certain he's crushing his poor man, Warren doesn't complain at all. Nathan can feel his grin against his own mouth.

Sleepy Warren is easily one of Nathan's favorite people. [1]

For a while, it's silent. They lay together, tangled up in the warm bed and each other. Nathan thinks, after a while, that Warren's gone back to sleep. His breathing is even and deep and it makes Nathan happy -- Warren deserves the rest.

After all, it's Warren who has to deal with him for a boyfriend. It's Warren who has to deal with his hallucinations and delusions and  _trauma_. It's Warren who has to kiss Nathan's agony away.

Suddenly, Warren shifts, surprising Nathan and jostling his head off of his chest for a moment. He doesn't put his head back down. He stares at Warren's chin.

"You think so  _loud,_ babe." His eyes truly open for the first time since laying down to sleep. Those warm brown eyes are everything, and his voice is amused and caring. "What's wrong?"

Nathan opens his mouth to reply but Warren's eyes go wide and worried.

"Oh,  _damn,_ Nathan," His head snaps in the direction of the alarm clock. "Have you slept at all tonight?"

Silence.  _Guilty_ silence. Warren knows the truth. Nathan feels Warren's body deflate underneath his, like Nathan's insomnia is somehow a failure on his part. 

" _Baby,_ " he whispers, pulling Nathan closer, arms tight like he can't bear to let him go. "Tell me what's in your head."

He pauses first. Sharing is almost harder than suffering alone; but this is Warren, and Warren loves him, even if Nathan hates it. Warren can help. So, he says, vaguely, "A lot of things."

Warren presses his hands flat on Nathan's back, rubbing at a comfortable pace. "You can share it all with me. Anything I can ever do, I'm going to."

Nathan has slowly grown better at this part of being close to people. It's still odd, and it still makes his face heat up and his tongue feel heavy, but practice makes perfect and all that. That's what the quack he talks to says, anyways. And Warren to.

So, Nathan says, "I was thinking about you and me. And other people, too."

Warren turns to the side a bit, pressing himself even closer to Nathan's body. "In a sexy way?" he jokes, though it almost sounds like he means it.

Nathan snorts. "I wish."

Warren smiles back at him, waiting patiently. Supportively.

"I--" Nathan awkwardly forces out the words.  _For Warren,_ he tells himself.  _And for a decent fucking thing to bring up in therapy for once._ "I was thinking about my... problems."

"Mental illness?" Warren asks quietly. "Or--"

Nathan nods. "Yeah, that. Sorry." He apologizes before he can even think about it. Immediately, he's embarrassed, and filled with shame. If he was truly sorry, he'd stop telling Warren all his garbage, wouldn't he? He's stop weighing him down. He'd let him find someone worth loving. He'd--

"Don't be," says Warren easily, like always. "It's all scarier for you than it is for me. If I could give you my anxiety and take your heavy shit instead, I'd do it." He kisses Nathan's own curly hair, right at the top of his head. "I'd carry any burden for you. Know that."

It's silent for a while, because Nathan's throat is tight and his eyes burn. Warren keeps rubbing those circles into the cold skin of his back like it's his favorite thing in the world. Nathan clears his throat to choke out, "Anxiety is heavy, too," because he doesn't know what the fuck to even  _begin_ to say to something like that.

Warren laughs. "I know. Trust me, I know. But so's your stuff. All of it." Nathan hums dismissively, hiding his face in the crook of Warren's neck. Another pause of silence, and then Warren whispers, "Wanna talk about it?"

Even though he knows his answer, Nathan takes a minute to think about it. There's a lot of things he talks about in therapy that he could probably bring up to Warren safely; like the glazed, sad eyes that stare at him in the dark sometimes, or the way the flash of lightning is too similar to the flash of a camera and makes bile rise in his throat. But, there's something nice about the way Warren  _doesn't_ know. He doesn't want him to worry any more than he does already, and if he's honest, he'd just rather not give those things power with his words just yet. Not here.

So he shakes his head, and says after a beat, "I love you."

And the smile on Warren's face is brighter than the stars. "I love you, too," he whispers tenderly, pressing his lips against Nathan's face and neck and face and neck. "So much!" he says, "So, so much!" His lips are still lazy with sleep and it makes Nathan laugh, their quiet disturbance the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

After far too much kissing considering the hour and how early they both have to go to work in the morning, Warren asks cheerfully, "Wanna put in a movie?"

The man knows him too well. " _Not_ Cannibal Holocaust."

Warren laughs. "Okay, yeah... Spoilsport."

He stands to put in a movie, and, mourning his warmth, Nathan wraps the blankets around himself and sits up to watch his lover work. When he sees Warren squint to see, however, he crawls over to turn on the lamp.

Watching Warren put on  _Back to the Future_ is oddly magical. While Warren searches the Blu-rays, Nathan comes to realize that the room feels truly and completely safe in ways he's not sure he's ever felt. He's not sure how to feel about it, other than awed.

Warren's curls stick up ridiculously around his head and his ugly briefs ride up his ass in a noticeable and surely uncomfortable wedgie. He burps quietly, murmuring a careless, " _'scuse me_ " while he picks it, then scratches the sleep out of his eyes with the same hand.

Nathan huffs a laugh that should be mean-spirited, but is only adoring. "I love you," he says again, but Warren topples a tower of DVDs at the exact same time and doesn't hear it over his own cursing.

Nathan doesn't think much of it, though, because in his mind, he'll have the rest of their lives to tell him, because right now, at this moment, he has decided that he is _never_ going to let this man go. He is going to live the rest of his life as Mr. Nathan Graham, even if it fucking kills him, and nothing could ever begin to change his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] High Max and Goofball Victoria are also pretty high on the list. Dick Joke Kate is always at the very top.
> 
> comments and kudos are a writers best friends!


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